The Touch of Cold Hard Steel
by Tadpole24
Summary: It's been months of this, months since he found her and made her remember. PWP goodness with a certain hook. Captain Swan.


_Let's just say there was a lot of smut talk going on a few weeks ago and this was asked to be written. To __**Kim**__ and __**Adrian**__, you guys keep me giggling and always entertained. This is for you!_

_Thank you to __**J-J-Sawyer-Phillips**__ for the title because I was struggling hardcore with it!_

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The Touch of Cold Hard Steel

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"Do it," she growls, pushing his hook against her sternum. Through the soft fabric of her shirt, she can feel the tear, the scratch and burn. She pushes her chest up into his touch, hissing out as he stings her and rips the shirt just enough that a sliver of soft skin is exposed to him.

"Emma," he says, a warning edge to his tone, "Are you sure?"

Her eyes flash to his, slightly angry and every bit aroused, "Fuck yes."

He nods then, his eyes going from soft and concerned to brutal and indifferent in a blink. And she can see the Captain in there, she can see the revenge filled irises of his past and she knows this is going to be good. So fucking good.

He pulls down swiftly with his hook, leaving a thin red scratch on her stomach as he parts her torn shirt and licks the length of the slightly raised skin. She arches her back into his wet mouth, relishing the way the air cools where his tongue has been, leaving her body trembling for him already.

She reaches down to grab him by the collar and pull him back up to her, fingers fumbling over the clasps of his vest as he devours her neck with open mouthed kisses and grazing bites. His hook pushes roughly against her hand, trapping it on the wooden floor of the loft and using his own fingers to open the clasps. She raises her knee beneath him before he can go any further though, kicking up slightly, enough that he has to move his hook and allow her hand to go free as she shifts beneath him, locking him under her in a swift rolling movement.

Her thighs rest on either side of his and she squeezes against him, feeling the hardness of his arousal on her already aching core, the rub of denim on her most sensitive skin combined with the moody pirate doing things to her that she couldn't even imagine. His hand grips her thigh, thumb running along the inside seam of her jeans, almost reaching where she needs him. Almost.

He smiles like the devil and removes his hand, eyes meeting hers in a challenge. She accepts it immediately, knowing he is going to be selfish tonight, that she is going to have to give a lot to get anything back. It fills her with pleasure knowing that she has that kind of reign over him, that she can make him squirm until it pleases her that he comes and that he's going to make her ache for it, that when she falls apart she's going to be trembling for him.

Oh yes, this is most definitely a challenge she's willing to accept.

She deliberately moves forward, allowing parts of her to very intimately touch parts of him, her hands coming to the bottom of the deep V made by his shirt and pulling roughly, sending buttons skittering across the floor. With a satisfied grin, she pushes the shirt off his shoulders, her mouth connecting with his jaw as her hands slide the fabric completely off his arms.

"Over three centuries I've owned that shirt," he growls, bucking his hips up into her, tucking her hair behind her ear with his hook so he can watch her as she moves down his torso with her talented mouth.

"I'll buy you a new one," she answers before licking the line at the top of his trousers, tongue flattening and dipping just below the waistline as her eyes meet his. She smiles before reaching out quickly and grabbing his hook, twisting it free of its brace. His arm drops as he watches the arousal cloud her eyes. He knew the appendage turned her on, but fuck, he had no idea how much.

If he had, he'd have let her go wild with it months before.

"Careful lass," he hisses as she experimentally lets the tip fall on the skin of his belly, dragging it along the same path her tongue has just taken. He smiles as she lightens her touch, tickling him, teasing him. His pants are entirely too tight and he raises his hips again in the desperate hope that she might relieve him of the confines.

But instead she lowers her mouth over the obvious bulge and breathes out a steady breath of hot air. He drops his head back, arching his back, the hook's point biting into his skin while her mouth makes him harder without even touching him.

"Emma," he groans, full sentences becoming a difficulty, "I need you to…"

But she wants this to last, this sweet torture. So she rocks back on her heels, crouching over him but not touching him at all. With a smirk, she braces a hand behind her, leaning back, while the other hand raises the hook to her centre, pressing the point against her clit through her clothing. The pleasure she feels is tinged with an edge of pain and that pleases her more than she might be willing to first admit.

It isn't long before she feels Hook's hand on hers, drawing the metal point up her leg and pushing into the fabric of her jeans, tearing them just enough that he can wiggle a few fingers inside the rip and pull her down onto him. She falls with a gasp, her body coming to sit on his chest and before she has a chance to wrap her head around his quick movements, he's pulled the button free and the fly down.

"You know there are belt loops you could have tugged on?" she says, eyeing him from above.

He smiles, his head lifting up just slightly to be able to breathe hotly against her newly exposed skin, "I want to see you dishevelled and broken, Emma. Not put together and naked." He nips at the top of her underwear, his hand reaching down to unfasten his own pants and she rocks further forward on his chest until she is practically sitting on his lips. "I want to see your mouth red and swollen, your hair standing on end, your clothing hanging on by last threads. I want to bruise you, to mark you, to make you mine." He growls, taking a deep breath, licking his lips as the scent of her drives him mad, "I want devour you."

Her eyes flutter shut and as much as she wants to be in control, she can feel herself slipping. He sits up suddenly, sending her backwards and sliding to the floor. Within seconds, her jeans are off her body and the brace around his left arm is holding aside her underwear as he leans into her, tasting her sweetness, the evidence of her desire for him.

"Fuck," she moans, her feet bracing over his shoulders as she arches into his demanding tongue, completely surrounded by him.

She can feel the build within her, the way her muscles tighten and that warmth spreads through her limbs. It's too much, too fast and he won't stop to let her catch her breath, his lips sucking hard around her swollen bundle of nerves while his tongue flicks at it quickly. Her head tips back as her mouth opens in a silent scream, wanting to draw oxygen in, but unable to find that ability.

His hand reaches below his unrelenting mouth, pushing two fingers into her and curling them inside of her, sucking and licking all at once. Her hand comes down to his head, trying to pull him up, to give her one moment to catch up, but he won't and her body is already giving itself over to the overwhelming knot of feelings in her most sensitive folds making her movements sloppy and unguided.

"Oh god," she squeaks, barely able to make herself intelligible, "Oh god, oh god."

And then her hips buck upwards and she can feel herself tighten around his fingers like a vice as the tension finally releases and she lets out a cry of pleasure as stars appear before her eyes. He's still curling his fingers inside of her and she is vaguely aware of him lapping at her entrance, cleaning her up with that eager tongue, but can't respond just yet, her body still coming down from the intensity.

When his hand slips from her she feels an odd sense of loss, her eyes opening to find him gripping himself, the evidence of her orgasm still clinging to his digits as he pumps himself while licking his lips.

"Welcome back, princess," he says savagely, knowing it will only piss her off.

She can't even bring herself to playfully push him like she usually does, her limbs still jelly-like, "Fuck you."

He nods, "Oh I plan to."

His thumb swipes over the head of his cock and she sees the beads of his own arousal being spread with hers. It's at that moment that she feels her body start to wake up again.

She rolls to her side, reaching down between her own legs, touching herself as she watches him, "Good."

Their eyes meet and something sparks between them. It's been months of this, months since he found her and made her remember. She doesn't think there's a surface of this apartment they haven't touched, but it only makes her want him more. She's never been the kind of woman who wants to rely on someone else, to trust someone with her secrets and desires, to let someone in so much that they just become part of you. But it seems to have happened anyway.

And in that moment, she wants him to know just how much she needs him.

She rises on her hands and knees, crawling the short space to come to stop between his legs. Her eyes never sway from his as he keeps on pumping his fist down on himself, his pants just past his hips, the only other clothing hanging off his body the chain of charms around his neck. She lowers her head, still on her knees and knowing she's giving him a fine view of the long line of her back and her ass, still barely covered by her panties, and with a smug smirk, she opens her mouth over his cock, moaning in delight at the salty taste of him, knowing it's all for her.

He removes his hand as she takes him deeper, but she reaches out to grab it, tugging him forward to reach down to her bra and cup her breast. He doesn't need much more coaxing than that and as her tongue sweeps over him, he pulls one of her breasts from the confines of the material, massaging roughly and rolling a nipple between his fingers.

She arches her back, pushing harder into his hand and letting his cock hit the back of her throat as she laps at him, the vibrations from her soft moans actually making him, if possible, harder for her.

He watches as one of her own hands disappears between her legs and knows that she's feeling the pressure build again. And fuck, he wants to be inside her.

"Emma," he says, his voice cutting through the delicious haze around them, "Emma, I'm going to come."

She licks the long line of him once more, eyes looking up at him with a frown, "Not like you to be so courteous, Captain."

"Oh," he starts moving above her, trapping her beneath him, "This isn't about courtesy, lass." His accent is more pronounced when his voice is dripping with control and desire, and it delights her in thrilling ways, "This is about you coming around me as I come inside of you. I want you to feel the way you look, love." He glances down at her one uncovered breast, her slightly torn panties, "Completely, wickedly hot for me."

She reaches out taking hold of his hook again, grasping at his necklace and pulling him down to her, his cock bumping against her entrance. If she could freeze time for a moment this would be it. Tension seeping from their pores, the build of lust coiling deep in their souls, his words hot and heavy against her ear, his fingers digging into her hip.

But then he moves, thrusting forwards and into her in a swift motion. Emma's groan is guttural and fierce and her hips move up of their own volition, trying to take him deeper still.

"That's it, lass, let me see you wanting me," he teases, his breath hot in her ears, making her squirm.

He stills above her and her eyes flash to his in anger. "Move, dammit," she demands, bucking her own hips upwards.

But he holds still, eyes boring into hers with an intensity she's never seen before. She can feel his muscles quivering above her, inside of her, and she knows he'd going to start moving any second, but the pirate in him is watching his treasure, and she sees that now. He's ensuring his loot is safe, that she's his forever.

And something in her gaze must assure him, because soon enough he's sliding smoothly out of her before thrusting back in with a punishing force. She arches her back, taking him deeper on every movement.

"Mine," he growls, his lips buried in her neck, teeth biting, tongue licking, marking her with pride and possessiveness. Her fingers reach for the hook that is laying on her chest, between them, but he beats her to it, grasping the appendage and taking inspiration from her little show earlier. He slowly scrapes the tip of the metal down her torso, then carefully settles it against her clit, this time the curved edge teasing her.

"Fuck, you can do whatever you want with me," she moans, more than happy to become somebody's, more than happy to have him own her and fill her with this kind of pleasure whenever the hell he wants.

He grins, leaning up slightly, thrusting into her faster, watching as he enters her over and over, the way his cock disappears so well inside of her, slick and pulsing. When his eyes wander lazily up her scratched torso and to her face, he sees that she's watching too, sharp breaths leaving her every time he hits the right spot with his hook. She wants him deeper still and brings a leg up to wrap around his waist, but he sees the better alternative and reattaches the hook to its brace before grasping her ankle with his now free hand and stretching her long limb up to his shoulder, her smooth skin making him ache for more. He turns his head to the side, kissing her calf and groaning at the way the new angle enhances every swift thrust within her.

And then her eyes flick up to his and he sees it there. He sees the begging, the longing, the want, the need. It's desperate and raw, her body tightening around him, she reaches up, grasping the only thing she can, that charmed chain around his neck and pulling him roughly down to her, her leg muscles burning with the stretch, "You wanted me to fuck you, lass. Do you feel fucked?" he whispers harshly, "Do you want it to be done now? Do you want me to make you come?"

She's writhing, her knee practically crooked over his shoulder, her hand pulls tighter on the chain, wanting him impossibly closer as his cock hits her again and again in exactly the right spot. She tries to wiggle her hips to get more friction against the hook, but finds with a blinding reality check that the pirate is holding out on her. She groans, realisation hitting her. He wants her to beg.

"Do it," she tries, attempting to maintain some form of control, but as he slows his pace in retaliation, she understands what he needs from her, "You've got me, make me come. Please."

And it's her plead that does it, his pace speeding up and the metal of his hook pressing against her tirelessly. And then it's upon her all at once, gasping as she kisses him solidly and comes around him, her body convulsing and her world spinning. He swallows her screams and bites her lips as he thrusts twice more and then spills into her with the same amount of desperate vigour, grunting and groaning as the tip of his hook pierces the skin of his stomach, biting into him in blissful pain.

She reaches down between then and throws the hook aside, relishing in the way his seed pulses into her, warmth flooding her senses and physically filling her. She feels sore and used and so in love with this man. She meets his gaze and smiles as she sees Captain Hook fading into the distance, her Killian returning to her with a sated smile on his thoroughly kissed lips.

He pushes off her, allowing her leg to fall from his shoulder and to the side and she doesn't even care that he can see the sticky mess of himself running from her as he pulls out.

They really should make their way to a bed, but for now their muscles are too sore to do a thing but lie on the floor in a content and happy heap. Killian's fingers run along the scratches on her body, the red skin where he knows she'll be bruised tomorrow. And while he hates that he's marked her so, and he knows that she feels guilty for doing it to him too, they need the scars and the bruises.

Because the thought of not remembering each other is too much to handle. And while emotional scars and their true love will always lead them to each other, these physical marks will remind them much sooner just exactly what they have.

His voice is soft, rumbling through the short space between them, "Love you."

She smiles back at him, "Yeah. You too."


End file.
